Man Machine
by kay245
Summary: Molly is the sweetest, everybody agrees. So how did she just have this awful text alert for Sherlock Holmes and how did she manage to turn an innocuous song into a berating of the detective's bad behaviour?


_Okay, I know I have to stories in-progress and should focus on them, but I just had this little song that was so perfect for Sherlock. I just couldn't resist writing about it. It can be read as a spoiler-free sequel for The Mystery of the Burning Hearts or separately. I hope you enjoy it._

 _Anyway, I don't own anything, the merit being solely Gatiss', Moffat's and ADC's_

SHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHS

If one asked Mary Watson, Molly Hooper was the nicest, most forgiving person she'd ever met. The opinion was shared by everyone that knew the young pathologist – most would even go as far as to state that her personality was more suited to kindergarten teaching than pathology. Mary Watson would wholeheartedly agree if, in her line of work, Molly Hooper didn't have to deal on more than one occasion with one overgrown man-child named Sherlock Holmes. The self-proclaimed consulting detective was dismissive, harsh and sometimes downright cruel to the young woman. Yet, except for one or two soft reprimands – and yes, those three terrible blows when the detective had fallen the wagon in regards to drugs, Molly shouldered take-downs and insults with squeaked Okays, swift lowering of lashes and was prompt with her forgiving. However, when others would label Dr Hooper a pushover, Mary knew for a fact that there was a steel backbone to her friend. She just wished that she would demonstrate it more often.

As of that day, Molly Hooper was visiting one very happy yet terribly tired mother of a two month old little girl. Mary had begged her friend to come as she hadn't had any real adult discussion since the birth of her lovely but all-time-consuming child. Settled on the couch, Molly with a nappy on her shoulder to get any little dribble from baby Sherley, waited for Mary to come back to the sitting room with the drinks she had promised.

"When you say you haven't had a real adult conversation, you're joking right? You and John surely have some alone-time when Sherley is sleeping?" she asked, raising her voice ever so slightly so Mary could hear her from the kitchen.

"Unfortunately, I'm not kidding. When John's here, the only thing he is willing to talk about is our little princess. And when he doesn't, he's cooing at her for hours on end." Replied Mary as she shimmied back to sit next to her friend.

"Wow. I guess he is quite the hands-on father." Said Molly as she eyed the mojitos prepared by the nurse.

"Let me tell you, you know you and your husband are near ready for the loony bin when you start being obsessed about diapers content. Yesterday, we actually praised Sherley for her poo. That's when I knew that I had to take drastic measures." Explained Mary with a deep shiver that she quenched by taking a large gulp of one of the massively alcoholised drinks.

"Are you sure you should drink alcohol? With you nursing and everything?" asked Molly with a doubtful glance at the glass.

"Don't worry, I've milked myself almost dry so as to have enough bottles for at least half a day." Reassured Mary with a big smile. "Now, drink up girl, and tell me all about autopsies, latest dramas and cases."

Molly took a sip of her mojito – excellent, as they always were when done by Mary – and started to tell about what happened in her life for the last weeks. The talk went on so long than when John came back from his latest case with Sherlock, he found his wife and Molly half drunk and giggling uncontrollably. Fortunately, Sherley, despite the noise seemed to be sleeping perfectly happily in her cot at the feet of the two women. John went on to kiss his wife and greet Molly, only grasping some pieces of the discussion – something about parties, kissing strangers that would later be revealed to be students and some thankful prayers for one detective consulting to be absent. As Molly and Mary finally reigned in their laughter, they turned to the man with big smiles:

"So, how was your day?" they asked simultaneously, shared a look and giggled once more.

As John pondered about the opportunity to take the jug of alcohol from the coffee table, a tune rang in the air:

'I'm a man machine'

Molly, took out her mobile phone and had a quick look at the text she'd received. She sighed, quickly composed an answer and let the mobile out on the coffee table. As she went to take another sip of her glass, she noticed that John and Mary were gawking at her:

"Is that your text alert?" asked John.

Another text chimed in and the little sentence was sung again. Molly glared at her phone but refrained from taking it.

"Well, it's actually an individualised text alert and ring. The ring is a little longer though." She answered with perfect honesty.

Another text came in, another verse sounded but Molly still ignored her phone. Mary, broke into more giggles and asked:

"And who is texting you at 2 am? Is that the boy toy you're talking about?"

Molly stilled and then laughed at the mistake.

"Oh no, this is not what you think. It's Sherlock's text alert, actually."

As her friends looked at her bewildered, she rolled her eyes and stated painfully:

"For one second, just take your mind out of the gutter. Isn't that the perfect song for Sherlock?"

The married couple looked at each other and then thought about it. Effectively, once one put aside any sexual implication, the words took an entirely other meaning. John and Mary looked at Molly as if she'd grown two-heads. Sweet, patient Molly had chosen a text alert that just proclaimed to the world how much a prick the detective she was supposed to have a crush on was. At the look in their eyes, she just shrugged and primly said:

"Oh please, don't tell me that you haven't had the thought when he texts you a string of messages in the middle of the night." Her eyes narrowed and her voice took a hard edge as if she was exactly remembering some of the instances.

And to punctuate her last statement, the text alert sounded once again. The three friends' gazes focused on the phone and Molly shrugged once more as she sipped some more alcohol. They looked at each other after that and couldn't help but break into laughter again.

"Dear Lord" gasped John "It's so true. It's really meant for him!"

The day after that, John Watson and Mary Watson had an individualised text alert and ring for Sherlock Holmes. But it wouldn't be a week before Greg Lestrade would also update his own so that whenever the detective texted, there would be 'I'm a man machine'. From there on, the song stuck and took epic proportions. Whenever Sherlock would do something a bit not good, they'd hum the tune for a few seconds before shooting each other meaningful looks. At first, Sherlock hadn't cared and muted the strange behaviour out. Until Sherley's 6 months birthday when all friends were gathered to look at the beautiful little girl. Sherlock without the distraction of being a best man and left to his own device, managed to bring to tears one of the guest by deducing that she wasn't likely to be pregnant as her boyfriend had had a vasectomy the year before without telling her. Just as silence was settling at the appalling statement, John, Molly, Mary and Lestrade started humming and whistling the song. As friends turned to the quatuor and recognised the music, everybody broke into laughter. Sherlock, uncomprehending and feeling that his best friend would not give him a straight answer resorted to take advantage of Mrs. Hudson's light inebriation.

"Oh dear, I thought you knew. Isn't that your song?" the old lady asked genuinely surprised.

"My song? I don't have a song. I don't even know the song." Started the detective somewhat troubled by the idea.

Mary approached them and thrust her child into Mrs. Hudson's arms ending the talk before it even properly started. The landlady just cooed at the small baby in her arms and completely forgot about the man next to her. Mary, at the infuriated look shot at her by Sherlock, merrily shrugged and smiled. After a few seconds of duelling eyes, she relented and gave him an explanation:

"It's a song from Robbie Williams. Man machine. It suits you. Especially when you're being a prick" She said, cheekily.

"It doesn't suit me! It's not even proper music. And just to attribute a song to me and whistling it to me… I'm not a dog! It's insulting!" replied Sherlock, clearly affronted at being identified with a pop-song. "Is that one of John's joke? What happened to "a bit not good" and the likes?" asked the detective discomfited.

"It's not John." Said Mary, her smile getting bigger.

"What Lestrade? Of course, he so likes those kind of distasteful pranks." Spat Sherlock

"It's not him either." At the glare from the dark-haired man, she shot her hands up and said "It's not me either. As a matter of fact, it's Molly who started the whole thing."

The revelation hit the detective like a ton of brick. Molly, having noticed that Sherlock was in distress and guessing at the object of his argument with Mary, had made her way to them and thrusted a glass of wine in Sherlock's hand. The detective had no choice but to take it but managed to keep a pouting expression as he sipped his wine. Molly just chuckled at his wounded expression. Long past was the time when the detective made her aflutter by his sole presence.

"Ah Sherlock, it's just a joke, relax." Molly said.

"Tu quoque, mi fili." Muttered Sherlock with an even more churlish expression.

"I would have thought that Latin quotes would have been deleted considering the otherwise fate of the solar system. Or maybe not, one has to account for drama." Quipped Molly raising a brow and exchanging a smile with Mary. Mary kept her mouth shut and just enjoyed seeing Sherlock being bested by the pathologist. "And if you really don't like the song, don't forget to let me know the next time that you're being sent in exile, rather than waiting for me to find out at the most inconvenient moment."

And with a last smile, she went to Mrs. Hudson to get her own five minutes of hugs from little Sherley. Mary couldn't help but grin at Sherlock's discomfited face. Because, whatever what people said, Molly Hooper had a backbone and she was the most devilishly devious at getting payback.


End file.
